


Relief

by INMH



Series: Ancestry [5]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Coming Out, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, Family, Humor, M/M, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-23 17:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11407497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: It’s been a bit too long for Callum. So now would be a bad time for Ghost-Grandpa Aguilar to butt in.





	Relief

Three years he’d been in prison.  
  
_Three_.  
  
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”  
  
On just about any other occasion, Callum might have been embarrassed to be moaning like a porn-star who hadn’t quite made enough to cover rent that month, but this was the first time he’d had sex in nearly four years: Three and a half years in prison, and five months on the run from Abstergo.  
  
Oh, sure, he’d had plenty of chances to touch himself. Righty was an old friend of his, and had served him well in the days when Callum had been unable to find a partner- he was almost always in isolation of some kind in prison, and that meant no roommates that might be up for some fun.  
  
But somehow, jerking himself off felt a lot better when someone was pounding him from behind.  
  
_I am a slut,_ Callum thought, dazedly, as his hand slipped gracelessly over his cock. _I am the world’s biggest slut tonight. I will take a cock anywhere, and stick mine anywhere that will have me. I’m not even kidding. Celibacy **bites.**_  
  
“How you doing, man?” The guy behind him- Alex or Andrew or Armand or _something_ that started with an A, Callum’s brain had turned to mush around the time the guy had stuck his hand into Callum’s jeans and started squeezing- chuckled throatily.  
  
“I’m good,” Callum croaked, thumbing the slit of his cock. “I’m real good. Probably gonna come soon.”  
  
It had been a delicate dance, finding a sexual partner for the night: Callum was paranoid about accidentally picking a Templar agent to go to bed with, so he had to be cautious about anyone who seemed like they might have ulterior motives; then he needed to be sure that they were aware that this was a one-night stand and that he wasn’t going to be calling them tomorrow night.  
  
He’d struck gold with- _Alan._ That was his name. Right. Same name as Rikkin, the fucker who’d held him hostage, and that had turned him off at first.  
  
But the guy had a huge cock and an eagerness that surpassed Callum’s own. Maybe he was on the run from a bunch of Templar lunatics and only got into bed with someone once in a blue moon too.  
  
Callum finally gave up trying to hold himself up. He pitched forward, folding his arm on the bed just to insure that he didn’t suffocate in the mattress (but boy, what a way to go). His other hand kept working at his cock, occasionally reaching down to grasp his balls desperately. “Yeah, yeah, go, fuck me, fuck me,” Callum gasped, and there would be time for some shame for this wantonness when he’d had a chance to come.  
  
“Yeah, I’m gonna fuck you, babe, I’m gonna fuck you real good.”  
  
And he did, jabbing Callum’s prostate on every hit, and fuck, fuck, _fuck_ he needed to recruit this guy to the Assassins because it would be downright tragic if this was the last time he’d had a chance to make the beast with two backs with him.  
  
Callum could feel a burning pressure building up in his groin, and his hand dropped away from his cock so that he could just bask in the feeling. He wasn’t talking now, just whining, moaning, wordlessly pleading for Alan to make him come. He jerked his hips backwards frantically to meet the thrusts once, twice, shit, shit-  
  
“ _Ah!_ ” The moment it started he gasped, and when it hit its peak he _screamed_. “ _Fuck!_ Fuck! _Fuuu-!_ ”  
  
That was probably one of the best orgasms of his fucking _life._  
  
What followed was a satisfied exhaustion so profound that Callum’s vision swam a bit. He was limp even as Alan kept slamming his hips into Callum’s ass until he hit his own orgasm. He was still pretty sensitive, and his eyes slipped shut as he waited for Alan to stop, grunting slightly from the force of the thrusts.  
  
Once he had, Callum sighed and opened his eyes again.  
  
And then he froze.  
  
Because Aguilar was standing in the corner.  
  
And judging from the look on his face, he’d seen… and heard… a lot.  
Shit.  
  
Callum had thought that he’d made it pretty clear earlier that he wanted to be alone tonight. And if he recalled correctly, Aguilar seemed to make it clear that he’d understood that request, and that it was within his power to fulfill.  
  
He was still getting used to having Aguilar… Around? Attached to him? The point was, Callum was still trying to accustom himself to having what was effectively a ghost trailing him at any given moment of the day, trying to figure out how to best establish boundaries and guard what privacy he could.  
  
Like sex.  
  
Sex was a private thing.  
  
“Um…” Callum had scratched his neck and avoided eye-contact. “Could you, uh… Maybe… Like, disappear for a couple of hours? Please?”  
  
Aguilar had frowned. “Why?”  
  
“I… Have some stuff to do.”  
  
“What sort of ‘stuff’?” Aguilar had pressed, looking both confused and concerned.  
  
Callum knew with a great deal of certainty that the nature of his connection with Aguilar meant that, sometimes, random information could be passed between them. Language was one example: Aguilar knew English perfectly (despite, by his own admission, speaking it only passably during his lifetime) and Callum, who only knew a little Spanish from a few Spanish-From-Mexico speaking friends he’d had in New Mexico, could suddenly understand 15 th Century Ye Olde Spanish-From-Spain.  
  
But there were also instances when thoughts and feelings could be transferred between the two of them as well. Callum would suddenly find himself thinking mournfully of Maria, or of Christina (the woman Aguilar had later taken as his wife) and their children, only to realize that he was unintentionally picking up on Aguilar’s brooding. And sometimes, Aguilar would come to him when he was meditating on some especially dark memory and start talking to him about something trivial to take his mind off it.  
  
Which was all well and good.  
  
But Callum had not and did not want his five-hundred year-old ancestor seeing his dirty thoughts.  
  
First off, it was just privacy: He wouldn’t want anyone else peeking into some of his dirtier fantasies either.  
  
Second off, they were family: Really, really distant family, but family nevertheless. And having a family member looking up your web history and finding all that porn would be really fucking humiliating, wouldn’t it?  
  
And third, there was the practical aspect to consider: Aguilar lived in 15th Century Spain, where a guy could be executed for bogus accusations of witchcraft, for fuck’s sake. Callum’s wasn’t entirely sure what Aguilar’s feelings on homosexuality (or in Callum's case, bisexuality) were, or if he had figured out that his grandson’s door swung both ways, so to speak.  
  
Well, okay, he definitely knew _now_ , didn’t he?  
  
Alan, likely confusing Callum’s distress for post-coital exhaustion, was oblivious. He was nipping at Callum’s back and shoulders, fingers sliding along his flank. “So you liked it, hm? I mean, that’s what it sounded like: I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone scream like that before.”  
  
“Yeah,” Callum responded, eyes shut and trying not to let Alan see him cringing. “Yeah, you were really good.”  
  
The little bites stopped, and he felt Alan climb off the bed. “I’m gonna shower. Want to join me?”  
  
Callum turned and opened his eyes, deliberately not looking at the corner. “Nah, I’m, uh… I’m wiped. You really took it out of me.”  
  
Alan grinned and paced off to the bathroom. Callum set his head down onto his folded arms and waited for the inevitable. When the shower turned on, and it became apparent that they wouldn’t be heard, Aguilar was the first to speak:  
  
“I should not have walked in on this.”  
  
Callum lifted his head and gave his great-great-whatever grandfather the most _withering_ look he could manage. “Yeah, not one of your better ideas.”  
  
Aguilar, as predicted, was frowning. “You should be more careful. You were very loud; anyone could know that you were having sex with a man in here. You could have been killed.”  
  
Callum was encouraged somewhat that Aguilar’s primary concern was his safety, rather than that he’d been fucking a dude. “We’ve kind of moved past the ‘killing gay people is a-okay’ part of history, actually.”  
  
The frown deepened. “‘Gay?’”  
  
Right. Modern terminology didn’t always make it across that mental connection of theirs. “Homosexual. People who fuck members of their own sex.”  
  
“You shouldn’t be so crude.” This, for some insane reason, was a common sticking point between the two of them: Aguilar didn’t like it when Callum swore excessively. No special reason why! Apparently the guy just had an issue with “unnecessary vulgarity”. This, by the way, was coming from a guy who knew twenty ways to kill you with a spoon and had once watched a Templar be ripped apart by bloodthirsty rats.  
  
(“It was a little more complicated than that.”  
  
“Oh well, that’s the way I’m telling it.”)  
  
Callum shook his head in disbelief. “You literally just saw me on my knees with a man’s cock up my ass, begging him to fuck me. Are you really gonna get pissy over my language?”  
  
“ _Yes_.”  
  
Callum snorted. “‘Everything is permitted’, my lily-white ass.”  
  
“I didn’t say it was forbidden, I’m merely saying that you should reevaluate your choice in language,” Aguilar said with infuriating coolness. The ancient Assassin had learned to manage his temper better than Callum, and it was rare for him to take Callum’s bait- even the quality kind that Callum only pulled out when he was mad as _hell_ and wanted to- literally- butt heads with someone else.  
  
“Why are you even here? Didn’t I ask you not to bug me tonight?”  
  
Aguilar shook his head with a more muted expression of exasperation than Callum’s. “I sensed that you were distressed,” He said pointedly, striding over to the bed and taking a seat next to his grandson; his naked-as-hell, fresh-out-of-sex grandson. Goddamn, but Callum’s life was nothing but batshit insanity. “Evidently I cannot distinguish between stress caused by sexual arousal and stress caused by fear or danger.”  
  
“Evidently. And please never say the words ‘sexual arousal’ again.”  
  
Aguilar scoffed. “What, you think I’ve never had sex before? I had three children, _Nieto._ ”  
  
Callum’s eyes fell shut in sheer, unadulterated horror. “Yeah, I know that, but I don’t particularly want to meditate on how they were _made._ ” Despite the strangeness of their situation, he did view Aguilar as some form of family and did privately categorize him as his grandfather, and you know what normal people _don’t_ do? Talk about sex with their grandfathers. Normal people don’t do that. And Callum at least wanted to _attempt_ to be normal in some respects. “We are not having this conversation. The next time you start to come out of… Wherever it is you _go_ when I can’t see you, take a moment to figure out whether you’re hearing fighting sounds or fucking sounds before you come barging in. Would you have wanted your grandpa walking in on you and someone else crashing the custard truck?”  
  
Aguilar stared at his grandson with a mixture of confusion and disgust. “Doing _what_ , now?” Callum barely resisted the urge to snicker. One of his few pleasures in life was pulling out the most obscure phrases he could think of, ones that hadn’t migrated to Aguilar via their weird psychic link, and throwing them at the Spaniard to see his reaction. Aguilar caught on quickly, though. “This is another one of your insane euphemisms for sex, isn’t it?”  
  
“That’s definitely a possibility.”  
  
Aguilar’s eyes rolled up into his head. “ _Dios mío._ ”  
  
“Besides,” Callum continued, glancing back towards the bathroom to make sure Alan was still showering, “I can take care of myself. I took care of myself for thirty years before you came along. You don’t need to come running in whenever you think I might be in trouble.”  
  
“You’re my grandson,” Aguilar muttered with a little defensiveness. “I neglected my duties to my family- my parents, in any case- in my lifetime. Much like with my children, I would like to do better by you.”  
  
And that stabbed Callum right where he lived, because he’d been more or less entirely on his own since the day his father had murdered his mother; insensitive as it might sound, he thought that Aguilar had been lucky that he’d even had time to fail his parents, and that he’d still had the stomach to make a life with a woman and have kids with her after being so fucked up after everything that had happened. Callum had lost the only family he’d had at seven, with barely any time to know them at all, and the idea of trying to make a life with a stranger, having to _explain_ everything to them, made his head hurt.  
  
“Yeah, well…” Callum muttered. “He’s gonna be out any minute now. We might go for round two, so…” He shrugged a little. That was a partial lie; showering usually signaled that sex was over for the night (at least to him), but Aguilar didn’t know that. Callum just wanted him out of the room before this conversation got any deeper than he could handle at the moment.  
  
Aguilar took the hint, standing up and stepping away from the bed. The sheets were untouched, and Callum was still unnerved by the fact that Aguilar, despite being very physically solid and real to him, did not disturb his surroundings when he tried to interact with them. “Very well. I will come back later, _Nieto._ ”  
  
Callum couldn’t resist asking, and he only had a moment before Alan would come back; the water had just stopped running. “So… It really doesn’t bother you that I was with a guy?”  
  
“The last woman you considered being with was a Templar. I am less bothered by you having encounters with random men in bars than I am by your continued affections towards a Templar woman who did serious harm to you.”  
  
Callum winced. Sophia was another point of contention between them: Callum maintained she wasn’t as bad as she seemed, and Aguilar maintained that physically and psychologically torturing someone, including nearly paralyzing them with their monstrous machine, was not a healthy way to show affection for someone else. That was usually the part where Callum ended the conversation, because the first time they’d had the argument it had gone on for hours, with them just circling around and around and around.  
  
“Right. Thanks.”  
  
“Did you say something?”  
  
Alan had stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist and a sly grin on his lips. Maybe there _would_ be a round two tonight.  
  
Callum glanced to the wall where Aguilar had last been, and saw only air.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
-End

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Dios mío: “Oh my God.”  
> Nieto: “Grandson.”


End file.
